Autobiography of a Pocket-Handkerchief | Page 7

change of positions is known to embrace an orbit of about
200,000,000 of miles, it is nevertheless so trifling as to produce no
apparent change of position in thousands of the fixed stars that are
believed to be the suns of other systems. Some conjecture even that all
these suns, with their several systems, our own included, revolve
around a common centre that is invisible to us, but which is the actual
throne of God; the comets that we note and measure being heavenly
messengers, as it might be, constantly passing from one of these
families of worlds to another."
I remember that one of the astronomer's pupils asked certain
explanations here, touching the planets that it was thought, or rather
known, that we could actually see, and those of which the true surfaces
were believed to be concealed from us. "I have told you," answered the
man of science, "that they are the Moon, Mars and the Sun. Both Venus
and Mercury are nearer to us than Mars, but their relative proximities to
the sun have some such effect on their surfaces, as placing an object
near a strong light is known to have on its appearance. We are dazzled,
to speak popularly, and cannot distinguish minutely. With Mars it is
different. If this planet has any atmosphere at all, it is one of no great
density, and its orbit being without our own, we can easily trace on its
surface the outlines of seas and continents. It is even supposed that the

tinge of the latter is that of reddish sand-stone, like much of that known
in our own world, but more decided in tint, while two brilliant white
spots, at its poles, are thought to be light reflected from the snows of
those regions, rendered more conspicuous, or disappearing, as they first
emerge from a twelvemonths' winter, or melt in a summer of equal
duration."
I could have listened forever to this astronomer, whose lectures so
profoundly taught lessons of humility to the created, and which were so
replete with silent eulogies on the power of the Creator! What was it to
me whether I were a modest plant, of half a cubit in stature, or the
proudest oak of the forest--man or vegetable? My duty was clearly to
glorify the dread Being who had produced all these marvels, and to
fulfil my time in worship, praise and contentment. It mattered not
whether my impressions were derived through organs called ears, and
were communicated by others called those of speech, or whether each
function was performed by means of sensations and agencies too subtle
to be detected by ordinary means. It was enough for me that I heard and
understood, and felt the goodness and glory of God. I may say that my
first great lessons in true philosophy were obtained in these lectures,
where I learned to distinguish between the finite and infinite, ceasing to
envy any, while I inclined to worship one. The benevolence of
Providence is extended to all its creatures, each receiving it in a mode
adapted to its own powers of improvement. My destiny being toward a
communion with man--or rather with woman--I have ever looked upon
these silent communications with the astronomer as so much
preparatory schooling, in order that my mind might be prepared for its
own avenir, and not be blinded by an undue appreciation of the
importance of its future associates. I know there are those who will
sneer at the supposition of a pocket-handkerchief possessing any mind,
or esprit, at all; but let such have patience and read on, when I hope it
will be in my power to demonstrate their error.
{avenir = future; esprit = soul or vital spirit }

CHAPTER II.
It is scarcely necessary to dwell on the scenes which occurred between
the time I first sprang from the earth and that in which I was "pulled."

The latter was a melancholy day for me, however, arriving prematurely
as regarded my vegetable state, since it was early determined that I was
to be spun into threads of unusual fineness. I will only say, here, that
my youth was a period of innocent pleasures, during which my chief
delight was to exhibit my simple but beautiful flowers, in honor of the
hand that gave them birth.
At the proper season, the whole field was laid low, when a scene of
hurry and confusion succeeded, to which I find it exceedingly painful
to turn in memory. The "rotting" was the most humiliating part of the
process which followed, though, in our case, this was done in clear
running water, and the "crackling" the most uncomfortable. Happily,
we were spared the anguish which ordinarily accompanies breaking on
the wheel, though we could not be said to have